


Clipped Wings

by fullofstarlight



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But it gets crazy, F/M, Mormonism, Recreational Drug Use, Religious Abuse, Starbucks, Starts Out as A Coffee Shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-14 04:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16485635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullofstarlight/pseuds/fullofstarlight
Summary: Mallory comes from an extremely religious family and Michael is determined to make her fall.





	1. Sinning in Starbucks

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of an AU but sticks to the AHS lore. Michael and Mallory just start out at different places. There's religious abuse here. A lot of it is based off similar experiences I had growing up. So, I guess this is how I cope with it. Rated E for Future Smut. I'm new to the fandom so I don't have a beta yet. I used Grammarly and proofreading to tidy up this chapter.

It always feels so _fake_. From the moment she was old enough to really think till now, Mallory has never been able to truly _believe._ But, there’s always this part of her that _doubts_. Mallory wishes she could be a true believer. She wishes she could be like the other girls in Young Women's that so easily found husbands and managed to create families. It would make her parents so happy _especially_ her mother. But, Mallory isn’t happy. _She’s never been happy._ She just goes along with it, because at this point, she can’t seem to find a way out.

 

Mallory lays with her arms spread out on her twin bed. She looks over to the picture on her nightstand. She and Coco are smiling in graduation gowns. Mallory’s brief smile fades from her lips. It’s going to be hard to see Coco now that she’s a month out of high school. High School was really the only place she got to _escape_. Now, her mother wants her to commit to the church.

 

 _“I swear I’ll make you try Starbucks! You will love it! There are new gluten-free drinks coming out this summer! You have to come with me!”_ That was the last thing Coco had texted her before her mother forbid her from talking to Coco. Apparently, she's a bad influence or something of that nature.

 

Sometimes Mallory will lay and daydream she’s somewhere else. When she was younger and more innocent, she would dream of running away to New York with Coco. But, now, her daydreams are so _strange_. She never sees the face of the man doing such _strange_ things to her, but she always sees blonde hair and black clothes.

 

“Mallory, it’s time to wake up!”

 

 _She had forgotten today is Sunday._ Mallory doesn’t move. She can already picture her mother in the doorway, dyed blonde hair and wearing her best Stepford smile.

 

“I don’t feel well,” Mallory tries this excuse every now and again. She knows its useless. Her mother will drag her to church with a head cold before letting her skip a day of a sacrament.

 

“ _Mallory_ ,” her mother’s voice drops to a low scolding tone. “God needs your loyalty even in hard times. We have discussed this.”

 

Mallory can hear the floor creak as her mother approaches the bed. The bed dips when her mother sits at the side. She lays a pink dress over the side of the bed before running her fingers through Mallory’s hair.

 

“I bought you a new dress,” her mother smiles down on her. “I’ve noticed Joe has an eye for you. He’ll be there today. You know he’s a doctor. He would take care of you.”

 

Joseph Sowards is forty-eight. She’s eighteen. It just feels so wrong to her. She doesn’t want to be married—not yet and especially to someone so old. All she ever wanted was to go to UCLA with Coco. She remembers her mother ripping the acceptance letter to shreds before her very eyes. _Why is it so wrong to want to school?_ It’s not as if she can’t marry later.

 

Her mother touches her arm and looks into her eyes. “Now, get ready. I’m sure you’ll look perfect in that dress.”

 

Mallory waits for her mother to leave the room. She places her hands over her eyes before she lets out a staggered breath. Her teeth graze her bottom lip to bite back a scream. Tears brim the corners of her eyes, but she won’t let them fall. Mallory sits up in her bed. She looks around her room—all shades of pink and white. There’s a picture of Christ that her mother nailed to her wall. Mallory averts her gaze from it. She shouldn’t hate Christ or God. _She should be better_. She should want to go to church.

 

Mallory pulls the blanket to the side and sets her feet onto the floor. She sits at the end of the bed and stares at her hands. Her eyes seem to follow all the little lines in her palms as if they have answers. She sets her palms on her knees and looks across from her at her open closet. Mallory rises to her feet and steps inside. She pulls on a cord to flip on the lights. Her eyes fall onto a shoebox on the floor. Mallory takes small tentative steps towards it and pulls off the cardboard top.

 

Jean shorts, a frilly white sleeveless top, and skimpy white undergarments lay untouched since the day Coco insisted that she wear them to a high school party. Mallory had thought to throw it all out but never could bring herself to do so. The clothes are all designer brands that must have cost Coco a fortune. It would feel like such an insult to just toss the clothes in a dumpster. She outstretches her hand and touches the lacey, white fabric of the shirt.

 

Mallory takes the clothes out of the box. A golden headband shines at the bottom of the box. Mallory sets the clothes to her side on the carpeted floor and takes the headband in her hand. She studies the golden roses and leaves. She remembers the red outfit and heart headband Coco had worn. _We could be like Persephone and Aphrodite, you know?_ Coco’s words stick in her mind. She muses on Persephone who had been stolen away from her protective mother by a dark god. _If only she could be that lucky…_

 

Mallory sets down the headband and pulls an old-fashioned frilly white nightgown over her head. She looks down at the bland bra and panties underneath that her mom bought from Sears. She removes her undergarments and changes into the outfit that Coco had bought her. She snatches the headband from the floor along with a pair of white flip-flops. She goes to her vanity mirror and brushes out her hair. She places the golden crown on top of her head and covers her face in light makeup. She shoves her feet and her white flip-flops and looks to herself. She really should change into that ugly pink dress laying on her bed.  _She should be good._

 

“ _Mallory!_ We’re going to be late!” her mother calls to her.

 

Mallory snatches her purse off the counter of her vanity mirror. She eyes the window. It wouldn't be the first time she snuck out, _but_ this would be the first time she would make her behavior known to her mother. _It doesn’t matter._ She just wants to leave.

 

Mallory pulls the window aside and swings her legs over the window sill. When her flip-flips touch the grass, she sprints as fast as her feet will carry her. She doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even dare to look back. She just runs through streets and alleyways until she’s completely out of breath. Mallory slows to a stop and leans over. Her hands touch her knees as she looks down at the sidewalk. Mallory rises to her full height and looks out to a busy street. She’s almost out of the neighborhood now.

 

She keeps walking, but this time in slow steps. Men honk and holler at her as she walks along the sidewalk of the busy street. She's learned to just tune it all out. Even in her long dresses, they say disgusting things to her. She thinks to all the pretty houses in her neighborhood. She really shouldn’t feel this miserable. Her family isn’t as rich as Coco’s family, but they are better off than so many people. Surely, there are people that aren’t as wealthy that wish they could live in such a nice neighborhood especially in Los Angeles.

 

Mallory keeps walking, her eyes searching for _something_ to do. She reaches into her purse to find her phone. Her fingers scroll through Instagram until she lands on Coco’s picture. Her heart hurts just looking at the photo. They haven’t talked in so long now. She wonders if Coco resents her for it. Mallory thinks to maybe send a private message or leave a witty comment but just hits the little heart below a picture of Coco with Mickey Mouse ears on her head. Mallory taps on Coco’s handle to access her full profile. There’s a man in the first photo she’s never seen before. Maybe a new boyfriend?

 

_“Such a beautiful day at #SantaMonica with the fabulous @the-evangallant.”_

 

Mallory wishes she was standing with them in the golden sand in a white bikini. _It’s unfair._ She shoves her phone back into her pocket. She’s always hated looking at social media and seeing all the wonderful lives all her friends seem to live. It makes her hate her life that much more. Whoever popularized social media must be a sick sadist.

 

Mallory stops at an intersection and waits. She grabs her phone back out of her purse and looks down at it. There’s an Instagram notification from Coco. She unlocks her phone and opens the message.

 

“ _Are you okay?_ ”

 

Mallory pauses. It’s going to hurt so much more when her mother forces Coco out of her life again, but she just wants to see her. “ _Hi...I’m so sorry I didn’t contact you sooner. Some things happened. We should talk. Meet me…”_

 

Mallory looks around the intersection and notices a Starbucks across the street from her. “ _Meet me at the Starbucks near our old high school._ ”

 

Mallory hits send and shoves the phone back in her purse. She lets out a deep breath and places her hands on her hips. She can’t seem to get a grip on her thoughts.

 

“You can cross now.”

 

A rich voice pulls her out of her thoughts. Mallory turns to see a man with long blonde hair. She looks across the street to see a walking signal on the other side.

 

“Oh…” she says. “ _Thanks_.”

 

Mallory steps out into the crosswalk, noticing that the man is walking by her side. He keeps glancing over at her. Mallory forces her gaze forward. _Is he checking her out?_ She wouldn’t even know. She’s so aloof to all of this. Her mother would never so much as let her be alone with a boy in high school.

 

There’s this odd sense of relief when she reaches the other side of the street. She looks over her shoulder and glances to the man in black next to her. Her eyes meet his greyish blue eyes. He’s _handsome_. Mallory turns away from him to hide her burning red cheeks. _Starbucks_ , she reminds herself. _Just go to Starbucks._

 

Mallory walks through the Starbucks parking lot and pulls open the door. She’s actually never been inside one before despite them being on every corner in LA. Mallory sits at the nearest table and takes her phone from her purse. A notification from Coco appears on her phone. Mallory unlocks her phone and reads it.

 

“ _So sorry, I’m going to be a bit late. Traffic’s bad._ ”

 

Mallory types back her response. _“It’s fine. I’ll wait till you get here.”_

 

She sets her phone down on the table and leans over on her elbows. There are so many smiling faces in the building. She sees friends sitting together and a couple off in the corner. It just feels normal to be in public without her mother hovering over her. Someone sets a cup of coffee in front of her, breaking her from her thoughts.

 

“I actually don’t drink coffee, but…” her eyes look up to see the blonde haired man. She can only manage a wooden smile when she says. “ _Hi…_ ”

 

The blonde haired man sits across from her. Mallory studies his clothes, an all-black suit with a black undershirt and black tie. _A strange combination._ It reminds her of a suit Loki wore in a Marvel movie she saw with Coco. She takes the coffee cup in hand and turns it in circles against the table nervously. It feels rude to just give the coffee back to him after he purchased it for her.

 

“ _I'm really sorry_ ,” Mallory begins. “But, do we know each other?”

 

“No, but I want to know you,” he replies.

 

Mallory looks into his blue eyes. He’s so very handsome, but no, _this is stupid._ She doesn’t even know him. He’s just some random man she met at a random crossroad. She brings the coffee close to her lips but sets it down. It’s just a drink. _Why is it so wrong to drink it?_

 

“You don’t drink coffee?” he asks. “I could get you something else.”

 

“No,” she says. “I mean, no, it’s fine. Thank you.”

 

Shaking hands bring the cup to her lips. She takes a sip of the warm liquid and swallows it. It’s sweet like chocolate. Mallory sets the mug down. This is _so_ ridiculous. Her mother would freak. Not only is she drinking coffee, but she’s in the _Liberal Hangout of America._ Or, at least that is what her mother calls it. Mallory thinks that sometimes her mother says nastier things about Starbucks than she does about Planned Parenthood. Who knows? Maybe a cup of coffee will turn her into a feminist. She fights back a small giggle at that thought.

 

Mallory takes another sip, this time really savoring the rich taste. She sets the white cup down and looks across to her at her new _friend_ of sorts. “This is nice. Thank you.”

 

“I’m Michael.”

 

“I’m Mallory.”

 

A small smile forms on her lips. She takes another sip. It’s ridiculous how _bad_ she feels about drinking a cup of Starbucks. _All of this is so stupid._ Mallory pictures her mother’s disapproving scowl and frowns. She’ll have to go back home eventually. It’s not like she has a job, and even with a job, it’s Los Angeles. Minimum wage won’t even get you into a studio apartment.

 

“Are you from Los Angeles?” Michael’s voice pulls her back to the present.

 

“Yeah, been here all my life. You?”

 

“I was born west of the Hotel Cortez, actually.”

 

Mallory’s eyes raise to his. “ _That place_? My mother has some strange ideas about it.”

 

“And, what ideas would they be?” he asks.

 

“ _Well_ , don’t laugh, but—” Mallory pauses. “So, she thinks the devil lives in it. You can’t leave if he doesn’t want you to. I don’t know. She says she’s heard stories.”

 

“The devil doesn’t live in the Hotel Cortez,” he says as if that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

 

“You sound like you would know,” Mallory jokes.

 

“I know he doesn’t live in a hotel,” Michael answers with a half-smile. “But, if he did, would you want to meet him?”

 

A chill runs down her spine. Mallory can feel the hairs of her neck stand up at his question. She looks down at the plastic lid covering her coffee. She forces the next words out of her mouth. “I don’t know, would you?”

 

There’s a small pause between them. Their eyes meet. There’s something in his eyes that pulls her towards him. Mallory’s lips part slightly. She’s not sure why she feels so drawn to a person she’s never met before.

 

“Mallory!”

 

Mallory looks over her shoulder to see Coco with the Evan Gallant person tagged in her Instagram photo. She turns back to Michael. It almost hurts to know she’ll probably never see him again. She can feel all her previous excitement drain away from her.

 

“That’s my friend,” Mallory says. “It was really nice to meet you, Michael. Thank you for the coffee.”

 

Mallory forces herself to stand and goes to Coco. She expects Coco to pull her into a hug, but instead, Coco pulls her by the bicep and yanks her out into the patio area. She looks over her shoulder as if the world could be watching her.

 

“What are you doing with, Michael Langdon?” she asks in a hushed voice.

 

“I met him today,” Mallory says. “Do you know him?”

 

“Uh, _yeah,_ who do you think I am!” she says as if she’s the most important person in the world. “So, that guy lives five houses down from me.”

 

“And, he’s so, so fine,” Gallant interjects.

 

“That’s not the point, Gallant,” Coco side-eyes him and looks back to Mallory. “Where do I begin? _Okay._ _So,_ his grandmother Constance married this rich real estate tycoon that used to live down the street from us before Constance murdered him. It was all over the news. Oh my god, I could not leave my house for weeks without people asking me questions. _Constance_ actually wasn’t arrested. They found her body in this weird ass house on Westchester Place. It was an overdose or some shit.

 

“Guess the bitch wanted to do the crime but did not want to do the time,” Gallant says with a lilt in his tone.

 

“So, he took over his father’s business and estate,” Coco continues. “Girl, he is so fucking loaded. Go back in there and ask for his number.”

 

“I’m not going to ask for his number,” Mallory argues. “I don’t even know him.”

 

“Just do it,” Coco orders. “ _Now._ ”

 

“ _Alright, alright…_ ”

 

Mallory turns back towards the door and steps inside. Her eyes meet with Michael. _God_ , this feels like such a bad idea. She walks to where he stands. It’s almost as if he was waiting for her to return to him. She puts her hands behind her back shyly and looks up to him. She’s never really flirted with anyone before. It’s almost as if she’s trying to sing for the first time.

 

“Michael...uh,” she lowers her eyes to the floor.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I...uh.”

 

Mallory’s voice seems to die. She glances at the window to see Coco making angry gestures at her. Mallory turns back to Michael.

 

“Here let me make this easier on you,” he hands her his phone. “Type in your number.”

 

Mallory looks down at the phone. She glances out the window to see Coco jumping up and down as if she were a circus clown. Mallory takes the phone and types in her number. She hands the phone back to Michael. His hand touches the top of her shoulder and it’s as if her entire body has burst into flames. She turns back to him.

 

“I’ll call you,” he says.

 

All Mallory can do is stand in place. _What the hell did Coco just talk her into?_ Her mother is going to be so _pissed_. The door nearly flies open when Coco enters the Starbucks. The entire room seems to be looking at them now.

 

“ _Oh...my...god!_ ” is all that Coco says.

 

“I’m so fucking jealous!” Gallant nearly shouts.

 

Coco throws her arms around her neck and does this sharp squeal that could almost break a glass. “Oh my god, what if you guys get married! We’ll live so close to each other! It’s going to be so fucking lit!”

 

Mallory just stands completely still. _What had just happened?_ Her arms wrap around Coco. She should be just as excited but she just feels so numb.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. II. Running With the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, again, a lot of the religious fanaticism is based on things that I witnessed or personal experiences of my own. It was a crazy time in my life to say the least, but this story really helps me cope in so many ways.

“So, what’s going on?” Coco glances to her as she steers her brand new Audi through Los Angeles traffic. “You dropped off the face of the earth.”

 

Mallory leans back into the leather seat and stares out into the backed up traffic on the interstate. She’s not even sure where to begin. It’s a long story—a lifelong story if she starts at the very beginning of it. Mallory has never confided in anyone about her family, because till now, she’s always believed herself to be wrong to question the church. It’s always felt so incredibly selfish. Maybe she’s actually wrong because she's just so _selfish_.

 

“I just haven’t felt right,” Mallory says. “I don’t know. It feels like there’s something wrong in my life. I don't know how to explain it."

 

“It’s your family,” Coco says as if she already knows everything. “It’s a Sunday, you’re not at church, and you were drinking coffee. Did you have a falling out with your mom and dad?”

 

“Not yet,” Mallory answers.

 

“So, what happened today?” Coco asks.

 

“I don’t know. I just ran,” Mallory replies.

 

Gallant leans between both of their seats. “So, you’re Mormon, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Mallory’s voice is filled with doubt as if she’s not even really sure if she is or not. “How do you know?”

 

“Coco told me,” he says. “Also, she told me your mom’s batshit crazy.”

 

Mallory gives Coco a look and says, “Is that what you think of her?”

 

“Well, if the magic underwear fits…” Coco’s voice trails off.

 

Mallory releases a sigh and forces her head back into the leather seat. It’s hard to even defend her mother— _not since she forbade her for going to UCLA._ Mallory wonders why she even bothered to apply, but then, she remembers that Coco begged her to apply. _“I don’t want to apply alone!”_ Coco had pleaded to her. 

 

“I got into UCLA too,” Mallory says bitterly.

 

“You did!” Coco nearly shouts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Because I’m not going,” Mallory says.

 

“Wait…” Gallant interjects. “You got into UCLA and you’re _not_ going?”

 

“Hold up!” Coco shouts. “I got to get off this interstate because we need to have a _serious_ talk!”

 

Coco moves the car off the exit ramp. She drives through the streets, eyes searching for an open parking space. Finally, she finds an open space and barely manages an off-centered version of a parallel parking job. Coco pops the armrest compartment between them to grab a couple of quarters. She tosses them at Gallant.

 

“Put these in the timer so the cops don’t fuck with us,” Coco says.

 

Coco waits for Gallant to return to the car. There is an awkward silence that fills the air. Mallory isn’t sure if she should just tell her everything now or if she should wait for Coco to start asking questions.

 

“So, is your mom cray-cray or something?” Gallant says with an awkward lilt.

 

“My mom isn’t crazy,” Mallory’s voice is shaky. It’s almost as if she doesn’t even believe the words she’s saying.

 

“She _is_ crazy!” Coco shouts. “So, look, there was this time I went over to her house in a tank top. Her mom forced me into one of her ugly sweaters for _revealing too much_. I had to leave. I’m sorry I just don’t do _Walmart Couture_ , okay.”

 

“She shops at Target,” Mallory corrects.

 

“Oh my god, same difference!” Coco says. “Target is just a place where middle-class white women shop. They just tell their friends they bought their shit at Nordstrom. Your mom is a wannabe Hilton.”

 

Mallory lets out a deep sigh. “Why are we even talking about my mom?”

 

“Because, I know she’s the reason you're not going to school with me!” Coco whines. “It’s not fair! We were supposed to live together! I was going to get my parents to pay for you to be in the same sorority with me! Now that’s not going to happen!”

 

 _I need you_. That’s basically what Coco is telling her.

 

“You should go. Not to get back at your mom. Not even for Coco,” Gallant pauses when Coco gives him a dirty glare over her shoulder. “You should go for yourself. Not very many people get into UCLA  _especially_ as a Freshman. You’re giving up an opportunity that so many people your age would kill for.”

 

Mallory turns her gaze to the parked 90s Toyota in front of her. An Impeach Trump sticker is placed on the left side of the car bumper. It’s so strange how much her mother seems to support him. It’s not like he’s a good Christain. Mallory wonders how her mother would react if she asked her how she felt about the President having an affair with a pornstar. Her father had already said that it was not Trump’s fault. He had said that it’s a woman’s job to fight their urges because men can’t. Maybe that’s what her mother believes too.

 

It doesn’t quite seem fair. If sex itself is a sin, shouldn’t both people take responsibility for it? She remembers the “abstinence only” class at her high school. They didn’t teach her very much about sex. They just told her not to do it. Her mother had told her it was best not to know too much, because if she did, it might tempt her like Satan tempted Eve. But, if God had just told Eve the truth, wouldn’t Eve had known better? It’s all so confusing to her. 

 

“Mallory, stay with me tonight,” Coco says. “ _Please…_ ”

 

Mallory hears her phone vibrate in her purse. Her mother is probably calling her again for the twentieth time. Her mom is probably worried. She really should go home.

 

“We can just look at some of the stuff for school,” Coco says. “Victoria’s Secret has tons of UCLA shirts we can look at online!”

 

“My mom won’t let me shop there, remember?” Mallory reminds.

 

“Oh _right_ ,” Coco rolls her eyes. “They don’t have a magic underwear section. _Well_ , I’m sorry that a bunch of old white man didn’t enchant the underwear there!”

 

Gallant snorts from the backseat before letting out a half-giggle.

 

“Maybe Michael will come visit,” Coco says. “I could invite him!”

 

“ _Maybe_ he’s busy with work,” Mallory says. “I don’t want to bother him. Remember Corrie and how she blew up that Nick guy's phone all the time. I don’t want to be desperate…”

 

“Nick liked to date middle schoolers,” Coco says with a look of disgust. “Corrie never had a chance. She was too old for him."

 

“Oh my god, how do you guys know all these crazy people?” Gallant says from the backseat.

 

“Well, Mallory is related to her mom and we went to school with this guy,” Coco answers. “It’s not like we ask for these people to come into our lives and annoy us.”

 

Mallory can hear her phone vibrate again. She probably should answer it. It feels so _mean_ to just ignore her mom, but she just doesn’t want to deal with it all right now. She reaches down to her purse and hits ignore on the call.

 

“Alright, I’ll stay the night,” Mallory says. “ _And_ , we can look at the UCLA stuff on Victoria’s Secret's page if you want.”

 

“Okay, can I get in on this sleepover, you guys?” Gallant asks. “I don’t have work tomorrow.”

 

“Sure! It’ll be a mini party!” Coco says. “My parents aren’t home and I found a way to trip the lock on their wine cellar. You and I can have some. And, you too Mallory, but only if you want to. No pressure.”

 

Coco turns the key still jammed in the ignition of her car. She shifts out of the parking spot and turns the car back toward the interstate. Gallant and Coco get into a long-winded conversation about the latest episode of Jersey Shore that Mallory can’t seem to follow. So, she lets her mind drift as she looks out of the passenger window of the car.

 

Mallory leans her elbow against the door and rests her head on her palm. She can’t seem to get Michael out of her head. She hardly knows him, but he’s the first person she’s ever been attracted too _since…_

 

The memory of Randi resurfaces and cuts through her. She had met her at Girl’s Camp. She remembers her shoulder-length brown hair and her striking green eyes. When Mallory first met her, it was all so very strange. She wanted to be her friend more than she ever wanted to be any girl’s friend. She was just so perfect in Mallory’s eyes. She remembers the night in their tent when Randi had kissed her. The next morning she woke up the whole camp had to leave early that summer. There was a suicide in the forest, _someone had hung herself._ Randi had. It hurt so much. She had cried to the only person in her life she knew wouldn't judge her for it.  _Coco._ Maybe she needs Coco as much as Coco needs her.

 

“Mallory!” Coco says. “Snap out of it! We’re here!”

 

Mallory looks to Coco to see her ginormous house behind her. Mallory grabs her purse from the floor of Coco’s car and shrugs it over her shoulder. She pushes the door of the car open and steps out onto the driveway. An eerie feeling comes over her. It’s as if someone is watching her. Mallory does a circle, searching the large yard for an intruder. No one else is here with them.

 

Mallory shuts the door on her car. Something feels _off_. It’s as if she’s being shrouded in a darkness. It’s similar to the feeling she gets when she walks by the Hotel Cortez, but it doesn’t feel quite as violent. Her faith is wavering. _Maybe this is a warning._ Her mother always tells her that the Holy Spirit will warn her when she’s in danger. Maybe this is what she meant.

 

“Are you okay?” Coco looks to her with concern. “You look pale.”

 

“I’m fine,” Mallory replies. “It’s just been so long since I’ve been here.”

 

Mallory joins Coco and Gallant on the other side of the car. She turns back to look at the front gate to be sure that no one is watching her. Her eyes peer through the bars, but no one else is there. She turns back to Coco and Gallant. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. It must be Mormon guilt. Mallory half smiles and breathes a sigh of relief. _Everything’s fine,_ she tells herself.

 

Mallory walks by Gallant’s side in silence as they follow Coco to the front door. Mallory glances to Gallant who gives her a friendly smile. Mallory smiles back. He seems so nice, but her parents would hate him so much for who he is. Her parents would hate her too for Randi. Is it really so wrong to fall in love with someone? Maybe God hates her too, and that’s why she’s never truly been happy.

 

Coco unlocks a pair of French doors at the front of her parents' mansion. Coco and Gallant follow her inside. Coco turns back and smiles at both of them. “It’s going up in this bitch on a Sunday. I’m going to go get the wine.”

 

“Okay, but I’m going with you,” Gallant says. “I have very specific tastes.”

 

“We’ll be back in a second," Coco says with a smile.

 

The pair walk up a flight of stairs and disappear around a corner, leaving her alone in an oversized room. Mallory’s phone vibrates. She reaches into her purse to see several missed calls from her mother, but also a text from a number she doesn’t recognize. It starts with 310, the same area code as Coco. Mallory bites her lips. A strange feeling runs through her. She unlocks her phone and looks at the text.

 

_“Hi, Mallory. It’s Michael. It was a pleasure meeting you today. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up sometime.”_

 

Mallory’s hands shake as she looks down at the text. She hadn’t actually expected him to text her back. She’s never actually done this—text a boy or girl that is. Her fingers hover over the keypad. _What should she say?_ She types a quick response.

 

_“We should. It was so nice to meet you too!”_

 

Her thumb hovers over the send button. This is ridiculous. It shouldn’t be this hard to send a text message. She mentally counts to three and sends the text. She trembles and breathes deeply, feeling all of her nervousness hit her at once. Her phone vibrates to signal his response. Mallory looks down at her phone. _This is really happening._

 

_“Where are you right now?”_

 

“Don’t be desperate. Don’t be desperate. Don’t be desperate,” Mallory says to herself over and over again as she types out her next message.

 

_“I’m at my friend Coco’s house.”_

 

Mallory hits send and waits for him to respond. Her heart nearly lurches when her phone vibrates.

 

“ _The Vanderbilts’ daughter? I saw her with you. I actually live near her. We should go for a walk.”_

 

 _This_ really _is happening._ Her own self-loathing and insecurities are telling her to come up with an excuse to deny his invitation. Mallory’s hands shake as she looks down at her phone.

 

_“Sure.”_

 

It’s the only thing she can manage to type. Mallory forces herself to hit send and breathes. This is _so_ ridiculous. Mallory sets her purse on the floor and shoves her phone in her back pocket. She shifts on her feet uneasily. She goes to the front doors and pulls them open. She turns back around and shuts them behind her. She lets holds the handle on the door a second too long before she convinces herself to keep going.

 

 _This is just another rebellious phase._ That’s what Mallory thinks to herself as she walks through Coco’s front yard. She reaches the front gate and enters the code Coco gave her to open the gate years ago. Malloy looks down at her phone and unlocks it to text Coco.

 

_“I needed some air. I’ll be back soon.”_

 

Mallory hits sends before crossing out into the neighborhood. She looks at all the Beverly Hills mansions against a Los Angeles sunset. It’s hard for her to believe that a small family of people need so much space to live in. She hears the sound of footsteps hitting the ground. Her head feels light when she turns to face Michael still dressed in the all black suit from earlier.

 

“Hello, Mallory.”

 

“Hi…” Mallory says nervously.

 

Mallory’s skin tingles as she looks up into his blue eyes. Michael reaches out and takes her hand in his. They walk side by side in silence. His fingers interlace with hers. _So, he does like her._ Mallory had thought for a moment that maybe he’s just being friendly. 

 

“How do you know the Vanderbilts?” he asks.

 

“I met Coco in middle school,” she says. “We were doing this group project in science class. We’ve been friends ever since.”

 

“I’ve lived next to them for a few years now,” Michael says. “I haven’t talked to them much. I don’t really talk to a lot of people here that much actually. My grandmother married into money. So, my neighbors don’t see me as one of them. You’re not really considered rich here unless you were born into this type of wealth.”

 

“You’re grandmother was poor, then?” Mallory asks.

 

“By these people’s standards, she was,” Michael replies. “But, no, she really wasn’t.”

 

His hand tightens around hers. “What about you? Are your parents from California too?”

 

“Not originally,” Mallory says. “They're from Utah. They lived there for ten years before moving out here. My dad got this fancy job at a law firm. They don't like it here much though. I think they miss the people from St. Georges actually. They talk about their old friends a lot."

 

“I don’t think I could ever live in Utah,” Michael does this small laugh. “I wouldn’t really fit in well with the people there.”

 

“Oh?” Mallory gives him a flirty little smile. “Why is that?”

 

“I drink alcohol and coffee for starters,” Michael jests. “I also have some interesting lifestyle choices they wouldn’t exactly approve of out there.”

 

Mallory looks to him curiously, but she decides that maybe it’s too early to pry. His pace slows to a stop. Michael's hand stays in hers as they turn to face each other. Her parents would never approve of him. Mallory’s eyes drop to the ground as her smile fades. She’ll never get to see him again when she finally returns home.

 

Michael’s hand touches her cheek. He tilts her gaze towards him and looks into her eyes as if he’s searching into her soul. He seems so _nice_. It shouldn’t matter who he is. It really shouldn’t matter if they don’t go to the same church. Maybe, if she’s careful when she introduces him to her parents, they’ll accept him. They’ll probably try to get him to convert, but she can make this work if she goes about it in the right way.

 

Mallory looks into his cobalt eyes. It’s as if he’s drawing her towards him. His free hand runs down her arm as he steps towards her. His lips press against hers. It’s been so long she’s forgotten how it felt like to be kissed. Mallory shuts her eyes. His hand rests against the small of her back, steadying her as his tongue traces along her lips. Mallory’s entire body goes stiff. She’s so lost in her own innocence that she can’t seem to even move. Michael withdrawals from her. She opens her eyes to see him staring back at her with confusion.

 

“You’ve never done this before,” he states as if his words are fact rather than a question.

 

“I have,” she pauses. “Once.”

 

“Your parents are from Utah,” he says to himself more than anything. “ _Of course…_ ”

 

They stand in silence. Maybe she’s just not the type of girl he thought she was. It’s probably the clothes she chose to wear. She remembers the way her mother chided Coco the time she tried to dress her in the Target sweater. _“You give boys bad ideas when you dress like that,”_ her mother had said. Mallory looks up to him. Maybe there’s no way to make this work. They’re just too different.

 

There's this dark look in her eyes as he looks down on her. His lips curve into a half-smile. “Are you staying overnight with the Vanderbilt girl?”

 

“Yes, why?” he says.

 

“I want to see you tomorrow after work,” he says. “You should come over.”

 

“You want to see me again?” Mallory wants to kick herself the moment the words leave her mouth. She must look like a lovesick little girl to him.

 

“Yes,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

 

All she can do is respond to him with a small nod. None of this makes any sense to her. She hasn’t even known him a day. She shouldn’t be this attracted to someone she hardly knows.

 

They walk side by side in silence back to Coco’s mansion. Mallory types in the access code and waits for the gates to open. She steps inside and waits for the gates to close behind her. Mallory turns back to Michael. She steps towards the gate and places her hands around two of the silver bars. She looks to him, searching his eyes for answers to questions she hasn't even asked.

 

He leans forward and leaves a soft kiss on her lips. When he withdraws, his eyes seem to pierce hers. “Goodnight, Mallory.”

 

“Goodnight Michael.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tonight's episode was so intense. I can't believe there's only one episode left, but so many questions left unanswered. I feel like we didn't really get to know much about Coco and Mallory's memory loss. Also, what happened with Coco's boyfriend? I want to know his story too. I think that this specific story will probably be told in two seasons. There's no way it can just end here. Or, maybe I'm just disappointed that we didn't get enough Millory scenes. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you all so much for all of your comments! The response to this was so overwhelming. I love hearing from all of you. Some of you commented on some of my Reylo stuff. It's so cool that most of us that ship Reylo also ship Millory. To the ones that commented that they've also faced religious abuse. I'm so, so sorry that you had to go through it. I one hundred percent empathize. I hope that anyone that is facing this abuse currently is out of that situation now. Everyone deserves to be happy.
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you think!


	3. III. Ring of Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update. The ending of this season really got me down and also I've been so busy with work. Plus, this chapter turned out longer than I expected.

_She’s falling. Mallory doesn’t fight it. She just falls and falls. It feels so easy not to fight it. It isn’t until she feels flames scorch her skin that her eyes snap open. She tries to pat the flames out on her skin, but they don't seem to die. She can see her mother in the distance covered in blood._

 

_“You did this!” she screams. “You did this to me!”_

 

Mallory’s eyes snap open. She sits up in the bed and looks over to see Coco passed out from alcohol. Her eyes glance over to see Gallant passed out on a white couch still in his clothes from last night. The both of them will wake up hungover judging by the amount of alcohol they both consumed last night.

 

Mallory draws the covers aside and sets her feet on the floor. She sits on the side of the bed and laces her fingers together. Her nightmare resurfaces. She remembers falling. She remembers her mother screaming, but she can’t seem to remember much of it. She just knows that it was terrifying.

 

Mallory grabs her phone from the nightstand to see more missed calls from her mother. The longer this war goes on between them, the harder she’s finding it to just speak to her. Mallory unlocks her phone and manages a text.

 

_“I need a break from it all.”_

 

It’s all she can manage to type. She thinks that maybe she should delete the words, but she forces herself to send them out. Mallory sets a block feature on both of her parents' numbers and sets her phone down. She just can’t face it right now. She needs space.

 

There’s only so long she can stay in this limbo. At some point, she’s going to have to speak with her parents again. She’s never fought like this with either of her parents before. There’s no frame of reference to go by. There’s a part of her that wonders if things will return to _normal_ between them. Mallory is starting to believe her life at home is far from normal.

 

She climbs out of the bed and looks down at the pink pajama shirt Coco had lent her last night. She should have brought more clothing to wear when she left the house. Mallory hears Coco groan. Coco sits up, her hair frayed and her eyes unfocused. Mallory walks to the other side of the bed and sits down. A groan escapes her.

 

“My head fucking hurts,” Coco groans. “God, I want to throw up.”

 

Mallory touches Coco’s head to see if she has a temperature. She tries to withdraw her hand, but Coco plants her palm back down on her forehead.

 

“Keep it there,” Coco says. “It’s making the headache go away.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Mallory says.

 

“No, really,” Coco says. “I don’t feel so awful anymore.”

 

Coco drops her palm to the bed. Mallory withdrawals her hand and sets both hands on her lap. In the span of a day, so much has happened. It’s almost as if she’s living something between a dream and a nightmare. Mallory just isn’t sure which one it is yet.

 

“Can you drive me to my house?” Mallory asks.

 

“Uh, _no!_ ” Coco exclaims. “I’m not taking you back to crazy town!”

 

“I don’t want to go back either,” Mallory explains. “But, I don’t have clothes to wear.”

 

“Oh, don’t even worry about that.” Coco snatches her phone from her nightstand, unlocks it, and starts to type a text. “I’m texting my maid right now. She’ll go get you some clothes on my parents' dime.”

 

Mallory looks over her shoulder to read the text. “ _10 new outfits. Some casual. Some sexy. Lingerie too. Dress size 3-4. Lingerie size SM. Shirts SM. Pants Size 3-4. Shoe size 7._ _Sexy cocktail dress. You’ve seen Mallory. Pick what you would look good on her.”_

 

“You can text your maid for _sexy clothes_?” Mallory asks.

 

Coco shrugs. “She never tells my parents. So, who cares? I know you didn’t go for a walk by yourself last night, Mallory! I’m just trying to get you laid!”

 

“ _What?_ ” Mallory can’t even believe the words that are coming out of Coco’s mouth. “I don’t even know if that’s a good idea, Coco…”

 

“ _Why not!_ ” Coco whines.

 

“ _Because…!_ ”

 

“Can you two be quiet?” Gallant half groan and half yells. “I have the worst fucking headache and you two are making it worse!’

 

Coco grabs Mallory’s wrist and guides her through her oversized room and into her equally oversized bathroom. Coco closes the door behind her and places both of her hands on the sides of Mallory’s arms. “Look, my parents won’t even care that you’re here. They hardly notice that I’m even here. Just stay with me. _Please._ ”

 

“I can’t stay forever,” Mallory says. “I have to talk to them again someday.”

 

“Okay, fine. Whatever,” Coco says almost dismissively. “But, you don’t have to today or even tomorrow or the day after that. Look, just forget about them.  _Now,_ I’m going to let you shower while I go downstairs to make some coffee.”

 

Coco opens the door and shuts it behind her, leaving Mallory inside the oversized bathroom. It’s all still so unreal to her that she’s here. She had thought that she would have given in by now. Mallory looks to herself in the large vanity mirror before her. All of her life she’s caved to her parents’ every whim, but now it’s just too hard to go back.

 

Fragments of her dream seem to dance in the back of her mind. She remembers the fire against her skin. Just the thought of it makes her want to shower as if the water can wash away the imaginary flames from her dream. Mallory pulls the large pajama shirt over her head and removes her undergarments. She folds them and sets them on the countertop before she steps inside the shower.

 

Mallory glances around the large space within the shower. It’s surreal how different Coco lives from everyone else she knows. Everything inside her house always seems larger than life. She extends her hand to the silver knobs on the wall and turns them to a nice warm temperature. Mallory shuts her eyes and allows the hot water to pull her away even if only for a moment.

 

A warm sensation seems to run through her. She’s alone, but she doesn’t feel like she’s alone. It’s as if something is drawing her toward her. She sees flames in her mind just as she saw in her nightmare. Her eyes snap open. The only sound is the water cascading from above her.

 

Mallory steps out of the shower and wraps a plush robe around herself. The door to the bathroom opens. She sees Coco on the other end and breathes a sigh of relief. Coco stands with two cups of coffee in her hand. She sets them on the bathroom counter. Concern seems to wash over her features as she looks to Mallory.

 

“Mal, are you alright?” she asks.

 

“I just…” she tries to think of a way to explain her nightmare and the flames in her mind but she can’t. “I’m fine.”

 

Mallory turns and looks to the coffee. Coco had made two. She reaches to the mug with shaking hands. She wraps her fingers around the handle and brings it to her lips. She hesitates before she sips the hot, bitter liquid. It doesn’t quite taste the same at Starbucks, but the strong taste isn’t terrible. She takes another sip and sets the mug back down on the table.

 

It’s all a lie. Mallory has known for a while now. She had convinced herself that maybe some of it was real, but even then, she knew she was lying to herself. She’s never really fit in with the people at her church nor has she really felt devoted to it. She wants to believe there’s a God, but not one quite so cruel— _not one that would hate his own children so much that he’d flood the world to kill them all._

 

“I don’t want to go back home,” Mallory says. “ _Ever._ ”

 

It’s like she’s admitting it to herself more than she’s admitting it to Coco.

 

“You don’t have to,” Coco says. “You can stay here.”

 

Mallory shifts on her feet so that she’s facing Coco. Her eyes fall to the floor to block the tears that are forming in her eyes. She feels Coco’s arms wrap around her.

 

“It’s okay,” Coco whispers in a soothing tone. “ _It’s okay._ Evan will make you look really pretty for your date. _Everything going to be okay._ ”

 

* * *

 

Coco hadn’t lied. Gallant had taken her brown hair and highlighted it with streaks of blonde. He really had a gift for this. Mallory remembers the shocked look on her face when she looked back at herself in the mirror. She looked like a whole new person with wavy hair, red lips, and smokey eyeshadow.

 

_“I don’t look so plain…” she had said._

 

_“Honey, everyone looks plain without makeup,” Gallant said in a clipped, lilted tone._

 

“Okay,” Coco places both hands on her bare shoulders. “Just remember to focus on your balance when you walk in those heels. _And…_ ” Coco's eyes glance down at her strapless, deep red dress. “Try not to look self-conscious in revealing clothes. Just act like you're comfortable.”

 

Mallory watches as Coco runs back to the house, leaving her alone at the gate. She lowers her eyes to the ground and messes with the golden bracelets around her wrist. The air feels cold against her skin—too cold for summertime. _Maybe she’s making a mistake._ She keeps going back and forth. She wants to break away from her family, but she’s also afraid that she’s being selfish. She needs to make a definite choice, but she’s not sure what that choice is.

 

“ _Mallory_ ,” his voice is smooth as silk when he calls to her. It’s almost as if he’s singing her name rather than speaking it.

 

Mallory looks over her shoulder before she slowly turns to face him. She hits the button on the wall to open the gate for him. When the gate opens, she steps out into the neighborhood and stops before him. His deep blue eyes seem to pull her in. She wants to say something, but her words keep failing her. His hand reaches out to hers and takes it in his hand. They walk side by side in silence. The flames from her dream seem to dance in her mind. The fire that had felt so hot against her skin seems to burn within her.

 

But, it’s just guilt, because dreams are only dreams. There are myths of witches and warlocks. Everyone who’s sat through an American history class has heard about Salem. But, that was all a lie put together by small minded men. Coco may swear up and down that she has the foresight to see what’s inside her food, but it isn’t magic. That kind of information can be found on a nutrition label. Her nightmare is just a nightmare and nothing more.

 

Michael is the first to break their silence. “The Vanderbilt girl gave you that dress.”

 

“How would you know that?” she asks.

 

“It looks expensive for one,” he says. “And, it doesn’t look like something you’d buy for yourself if you had the choice.”

 

Mallory hasn’t ever shopped for herself actually. Her mother picks out the whites and pinks she always wears. She frowns at that thought. The only other person that’s bought her clothes is Coco, and Coco’s motive is always to find a way to dress in stuff she’s not allowed to wear. It’s as if her mother is determined to control her and Coco is determined to free her.

 

They stop before a large gated mansion. Michael swipes a card against a red light. A piercing, ringing sound resonates as the large gates open. Mallory walks by Michael’s side as they walk through the front gate. An older woman dressed in all black is walking towards them— _an aunt perhaps?_

 

“I have prepared everything as you asked,” she says.

 

“Thank you, Ms. Mead,” he replies.

 

 _Not an aunt_ , _but a maid._ Ms. Mead looks to her with curious eyes. “She looks _sweeter_ than the ones you bring here.”

 

“Maybe that’s what I need right now,” he says with a smile.

 

“ _Maybe_ …” her eyes fall back onto Mallory. “I can see the appeal actually.”

 

Their conversation is so strange. Mallory’s trying to piece the meaning of their words together, but none of it even makes sense to her. She feels like such a sheltered little girl.

 

The three of them walk up to the main entrance to the house. Ms. Mead pulls open the double doors and gestures them inside. Michael’s arm snakes around her waist before he guides her inside. The house is as large as Coco’s, but the inside is so different. It’s decorated in reds and blacks. The lights are low, giving the atmosphere an eerie vibe. Michael leads her up a staircase and down a hallway.

 

He withdraws his hand and pivots to face her. “I need to make a call. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 

Mallory watches as he disappears around the corner of the hallway. She shifts onto her left foot and turns to look at the posters on the wall. She doesn’t recognize most of the faces or names of the various characters on the signed posters. The first one is someone most everyone that’s followed pop culture knows, Marilyn Manson. Next to his poster is another rock star in a large hat and long black robes. He’s caked in heavy black and white makeup as if he were the devil’s pope. _To the son of my greatest influence_ is written before an unreadable signature. Mallory squints at the writing, trying to make sense of it. His father must have known all these men. It clicks. She’s seen the plotline played out on television a couple of times. His father was once a rock star, and he must be the bastard child of a groupie.

 

The ground shifts and pulls Mallory from her thoughts. She turns to look at him and asks, “You’ve met all these people?”

 

“I have,” he answers. “My true father has connections with all of them. It’s hard to explain, but they all seem to look up to him a lot.”

 

Mallory looks back at all the posters on the wall. “Your father was a rock star?”

 

He lets out a sardonic laugh. “I suppose he might think of himself as such at times.”

 

Michael stands next to her and looks upon the posters with her. His arm snakes around her waist as he draws her closer to him. She wants to ask about his mother but thinks that she might have already pried a bit too much.

 

“I asked Ms. Mead to bring us some _refreshments_ out back,” Michael says with a Cheshire grin.

 

Mallory has a sinking feeling that _refreshments_ is code for alcohol. Her eyes cast down to her feet. How many _rules_ is she going to break before she returns home? There’s an invisible line drawn somewhere. Once she crosses that line, there’s no going back. Wherever that line is, she’s stepping closer and closer to it the longer she’s away from home.

 

Michael’s arm stays tightly around her waist as he guides her back down the staircase. The door is set open for both of them. When she steps outside, her eyes widen in awe. Her parents have a small yard with a pool, but this is larger than life. She looks out to the pool that seems to extend for eternity. The soft sound of water pouring draws her eye to a makeshift waterfall built into the pool.

 

Michael leads her to a small table off to the side. Mallory’s eye catches a bottle of wine on ice along with two wine glasses. Her heart twists. She’s seen cheap wine on grocery store shelves and she’s certain that this is not something you can pick off the shelf of a local Target. Mallory extends her hand to the top of the bottle, her fingers grazing across the neck before she pulls them back.

 

“This all looks so expensive,” Mallory says before she turns to face Michael. “Ms. Mead isn’t going to be joining us?"

 

Michael guides her to a chair and sits her down. “She knows to leave me be when I bring men and women to my home.”

 

There have been others and not just women. Mallory manages a fleeting smiling. He is like her then. It makes her feel so _normal_ . Maybe there’s nothing wrong with her. _Maybe her parents are wrong._

 

Michael pours her a glass of red wine and hands it to her. Mallory hesitates but takes the glass in hand. She stares down at the rich, red liquid in the glass. Somehow, she always imagined that if she ever had a drink, the first drink she’d have was wine. It doesn’t seem quite as dangerous as whiskey or beer. She’s a fool to think such a silly thought. If she’s going to break tonight, it doesn’t matter what she drinks. Alcohol is alcohol.

 

“Is something wrong?” he asks her, his eyes looking down upon her.

 

Mallory holds his gaze. _This is her last chance to run._ She looks down at the glass of wine. She shakes her head. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

 

She breathes and brings the glass of wine to her lips. It isn’t as sweet as she had originally thought it would be. It has this bitter aftertaste. Mallory sips until the glass is empty. She nearly slams the glass onto the table and breathes. She can feel his eyes on her. She forces herself to look up at him. And all she can do is just laugh.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she says in between small giggles. “It’s just so funny. I can’t even explain it.”

 

“You don’t need to,” his voice is low as he leans over her.

 

Michael’s hand touches her thigh. His hand runs along the outside of her leg. His eyes seem to dance as they look down upon her. His hand withdraws from her thigh to touch her cheek. He’s studying her as if he can see inside her soul. She places her palm over his hand and shuts her eyes. She knows where this is headed, but she can’t seem to pull away.

 

Mallory opens her eyes. When their eyes meet she can see all that she’s ever wanted. She sees the freedom she never thought she’d have. She sees someone so much like herself who is free to love. It’s not just him that she wants, it’s the freedom he represents.

 

Michael leans forward and presses his lips against hers. His hand drops down from her cheek to her neck. She shivers underneath his touch. He parts her lips with his tongue and explores her mouth as if he wants to taste every bit of her. Her hands reach out to grab the smooth material of his black dress shirt.

 

Mallory is caught between fear and desire. There’s a piece of her that holds onto what she’s been brought up to believe in, but there’s also this part of her that wants so much more than to just follow the path her mother has laid out for her. Something inside of her his breaking. She shuts her eyes and returns his kiss.

 

_This is it. This is the end._

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending really pissed me off this season. Like...? It started with so much potential, but just crashed into a series of cliches by the end. Oh well. I'm hoping Cody and Billie will be part of the next season.
> 
> Anyways, smut promised next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> It was completely intentional for them to meet at a "crossroad" and I sort of realize this starts as a coffee house AU of sorts too. Anyways, let me know what you think.


End file.
